Empty Hands and Heavy Hearts
by alex1321
Summary: Even a year after that fateful night, Peter Parker is still haunted by the death of the only girl he'll ever truly love, Gwen Stacy. Please review! Any feed back welcome.
1. The Ghost of You

The sight of her slipping off the ledge…the sight of her free falling from that great height…the sickening, gruesome sound of her neck cracking back, as a thin strand of webbing wrapped itself around her ankle…to her lifeless form dangling from her webbed noose… But there is no time for reprieve, as heart wrenching sorrow swiftly turns into blind red rage. The rage, the fury, it hits him like a lighting bolt that travels from head to toe and throws it at the green garbed manic, standing over him, in a state mocking laughter. "You murdered the only girl I'll ever love…and today's the day you're going to die!", Spider-Man screamed, piercing the darkening night sky as he held Gwen Stacy's lifeless form close to him. The Green Goblin just kept laughing.

Spider-Man's fury blinds him, all a blurry haze the next thing he sees is the Green Goblin crucified by his own flying tin-can. The living essence drained from the Goblin's impaled body. The sight doesn't ebb the aching in his heart, not one bit. The image of Norman Osborn's face void of any signs of life, will forever haunt him. Now on the roof, atop the musty old warehouse, Spider-Man aimlessly walks with a tidal wave of mournful thoughts slamming against the base of his skull.

His legs feel heavier with each step he takes…with each passing thought, they get heavier and heavier. _She's dead…oh god she's dead. The Green Goblin killed her, but it was all my fault…all my fault. The only girl I'll ever love, dead because of me. I failed you Captain Stacy, I broke my promise...and I failed you. I've made such a mess of things. _The mournful ache burns his body, it stabs at him like hot pins and needles, red hot pain sears through muscle and sinew. His heavy heart weighing him down like some wicked ball and chain. _The Green Goblin, dead…no…not the Goblin, Norman Osborn…he's dead. Oh god, Harry's father, he's dead…dead because of me…all because of me. I've made such a mess of things. _Step after step, stab after stab, becoming all the more harder for Spider-Man to breathe, his lungs slowly fill with an icy black cold, slowly numbing his insides.

_Everything's my fault! No! It's all Spider-Man's fault…it's all Spider-Man's fault. He's the one responsible. This mess is all his doing. Everything is his fault!_

With those shaky thoughts knocking into his skull, the shadow of Spider-Man holds Peter Parker down like an anchor. Making each passing step heavier…and heavier still. The Spider-Man suit bonded onto Peter feels like a dead weight he can't shake off, as he makes his way, slowly, to the ledge of the roof. Past the blood pounding in his ears he hears the screeching of sirens, they may as well be a million miles away.

_But I am Spider-Man! Peter Parker is Spider-Man! It's all my fault, everything's my fault. Because I was selfish, because I was hot-headed, because I needed a feeling of self-worth. Everyone close to me I've hurt, everyone I care about that's been put in harm's way is because Peter Parker is Spider-Man! Aunt May, Uncle Ben, Joe Robertson, Harry Osborn, Mary Jane, Flash Thompson, Betty Brant, Captain Stacy…and now Gwen is dead…all because of me…all because of my selfishness. _

Step after step, they get heavier and heavier as he inches closer to the edge. Head bowed in sorrow, he marches on like a solemn prisoner on death row, walking to his fate…walking to his death. _This will make it all better…this will make everything go away…never again will anyone I love be put in harm's way…never again will anyone I love be grabbed by death's icy cold fingers._

Each step brings him one inch closer to the edge, step by step…inch by inch…until he finally reaches the ledge of the roof. Down below, the heart of the city is alive, the sirens wail, the lights are blindingly bright, New York's inhabitants peer on entranced and hypnotized. The sirens and the lights, they heckle and taunt him and egg him on, like those on the city street who recoil in fear at the very sight of him or his deadly foes who taunt and laugh at him, all enticing him to jump. In that moment his throat goes dry, the air sucks itself from his lungs. His costume feels even heavier than it did a minute ago. The pins and needles still stabbing away at him, numbing and dulling his senses.

_This is the only way…the only thing left to do…everything will be better this way…no one else will ever get hurt because of me…ever… _

Just one step over, then another and he'll be free…but he freezes and his stomach tries to crawl up his throat. He can't do it…he can't do it. For seconds he stares off into the distance, his brain rattled and numb. Then a breeze floats by, carrying the pleasant chill of the ocean, carrying it's soothing smells. It all strangely helps to soothe and calm him. With strength returning to him, though limited, he picks one foot up and it dangles over the unforgiving pavement, like an ornament dangling from a Christmas tree.

_This is it…no turning back…I'm past that point…no turning back…just lift up my right foot and it'll all be over…_

With his left foot dangling in the air, he lifts his right foot with the all the reserve and strength he has left. Before he knows it, gravity is on him, pulling him towards the ground. He's freefalling.

_I'm flying…I'm flying…it's better this way…please forgive me Aunt May…I pray all of you will forgive me…please forgive me…please…_

His thoughts flicker and flitter through his skull as he descends. He feels free and careless, flying through the wind. It almost feels like an eternity to him, how long it takes to finally reach the ground, but he's only inches away from his final impact. Inches…only inches away. The awe and sounds emanating from the crowd almost seem distant, like they're coming from another world. Inches…he's only inches away. He takes his last gulping breath, he feels the blood drain from his body filling him with a strange sensation. And the ground comes up to give Peter Parker a big, wet kiss.


	2. Epilogue

Murmurs rise in crescendo, they echo from the mouths of the people gathering around the still figure of the masked outlaw, Spider-Man. The wind carrying the ocean's breeze whirls around, hugging the crowd with it's tingling chill. They're stopped in motion, not knowing how what to do. But one among them re-gains his composure. One who has always had a secret agenda against the wall-crawler, J. Jonah Jameson. He starts on a rant, the usual "I finally get my chance to unmask the wall-crawling murderer…" And he banters on like a crazed egotist, like someone who thinks they have a golden voice that spits out golden ideas and thinks they are a gift to the world.

He finally finishes and starts to reach out his arm. His arm, his hand shake with fervor; shake with the heat of this moment, shake with worry at what he could uncover. He hopes that no one notices. Jameson's slimy fingers clutch themselves around Spider-Man's mask, and for a few seconds he leaves his hand there, still trembling. Until he regains his remaining composure and lifts the veil completely. The gathered crowd goes electric. The wind passes through like a ghost, carrying the whispers and gasps of the observers.

Somewhere in the crowd an old woman screams Peter Parker's name into the night sky, before she collapses and clutches her chest with a death-grip. Those that were close to Peter Parker are stunned silent, with the hard lines of incredulously carved on their faces. Even the greedy publisher, J Jonah Jameson; who's never had a good or true thing to say about Spider-Man or Peter Parker, is at a loss for words with his quivering mouth. The death of a nephew, employee, friend, foe, the death of a hero, a symbol; is felt by the everyone in the crowd it bogs them down, it constricts their lungs, it sucks the life out of them and leaves them with an empty feeling. Then it all becomes a haze everything becomes blurry and numb, except for the scream and the pain, the scream…the pain they don't stop…they don't stop…

…With a start, Peter Parker wakes, his whole body trembling, sweat sliding down his neck and breathing hard as though he had just ran a marathon. His head feels as if elephants had just danced all over it. His throat is swollen and sore from the screaming. He gulps down the vile at the back of his mouth, it feels like razorblades scraping through the flesh of his throat as it makes it way down. The air coming in through the open window in his room, carry's the icy chill of New York's winter. It feels like knives stabbing at him where it strikes the sweat on his body.

_When will this nightmare be over? When will it be over? Never! It will never be over…because it's my fault…all my fault…_

His thoughts flicker through his mind, as tears start to well in his burning eyes and cascade their way down his cheeks. Even in death, he can hear the Goblin's mocking cackle. It burns a hole right through him, it churns inside him, it gnaws like rabid jaws at his insides. He's still haunted by the memory of the death of Gwen Stacy, the only girl he's every truly loved, even a year after that fateful night. But time means nothing, absolutely nothing. He still remembers the vision of her falling as if it was tattooed on his mind, he still remembers the crack of her neck as if it was ringing in his ears, it'll never stop. Time means nothing…it will never heal his scars…it will never absolve him of his guilt…it will never ease his pain…it will never stop…never…


End file.
